Togethernes
by Zlhna
Summary: Bella spends the night before her wedding to Edward with her best friend. J/B


Togetherness

I re-entered consciousness feeling safe. An unusual sensation in my life. I woke up slowly, savoring the lingering cloud of half-sleep, aware of how warm and bright it was in the room. That's when I realized my blanket was two heavy arms, clasping me tightly to a chest radiating heat. The events of last night came rushing back, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, and a smile spread involuntarily across my lips. I pulled the sheet up around my exposed chest and turned slowly and carefully to glance shyly at my bedmate.

He was still asleep, a peaceful expression over his features, and the sun that slipped through the window made his copper skin glow. I studied the straight line of his nose and the natural curve of his lips. I smiled, remembering the feeling of those lips urgent against mine, parting as I felt his breath on my face, my neck, my shoulder, my stomach... I looked at his closed eyes and remembered the heat in them that warmed me more than his skin could. I loved his eyes- the way they smiled along with his mouth, the need, the want, the love behind them that poured out every time he looked at me. My eyes wandered to his hair, and the way it felt to run my hands through it, the way it tickled my shoulder as he hovered over me. I continued over his form, admiring the hard muscles under soft skin and the way my hands had traveled over them, followed by my lips. I loved how he was solid, like a tree, a rock I always clung to in times of turbulence.

He began to stir, and glanced down at me through sleepy eyes as a smile ignited on his face. I blushed and buried my face against his chest, inhaling his forest scent. His arms around me tightened and he whispered my name as a question. I remembered the way he said my name last night, over and over like a mantra, like it was his, and he made my simple name sound like a song. I also remembered the way my breath quickened and caught as I repeated his name through every kiss.

He unwound one arm and lifted my face with his finger under my chin, so that he could look into my eyes.

"Good morning," he said in a low, husky voice, thick with recent memories. His eyes were sparkling.

"Good morning," I answered with a shy smile. "Sleep well?" I ventured a little smugly.

His smile widened as he rolled on top of me, and kissed my shoulder, my neck, my ear, between each one saying into my skin, "Best. Night. Ever." I giggled in agreement and pulled him down against me. I loved the way my skin felt against his. Like smoldering ashes. Or like I might evaporate. Our lips met, working expertly against one another. I remembered that this is the way it had all began.

I had come over late in the afternoon and found Jacob in the garage, working on his car, as usual. He didn't even look up when I entered, simply said from under the hood of the Rabbit, "Did he have to sign a permission slip for you to visit?" I had nearly turned on my heal at the comment and drove straight back to my house. Why did he have to be so snide? Why did he have to make this harder than it already was?

"I thought I should spend my last night with my best friend," I replied with poison, "but I guess he's not here." I turned back toward the beat up, beloved old Chevy but before I had made it two steps, I felt a large, hot hand encircle my wrist, stopping me.

"I'm sorry, Bells. But you don't know what this is doing to me." He said, low and hurt.

"Can't we just pretend?" I pleaded. "One more night of Jake and Bells and then I'll leave you alone. I promise."

"Don't promise that." He said softly. He sighed as he asked, "So, bikes?"

I smiled at his agreement and he wiped his greasy hands off on his already oil-streaked white T-shirt.

Three hours later, after the coast and wind and sunset and speed, we were back in his kitchen. I was sitting on the counter and he was washing off the blood from my hand. He carefully wrapped my skinned knuckles in band-aids as he chuckled, "You managed to go 85 miles per hour all evening and then you trip getting off your bike in the garage!" He finished his task and then asked with mock pity, "Feel better?"

I put on an exaggerated pout and whimpered playfully, "Maybe if you kissed it..."

He smiled and leaned down, kissing each of my fingers lightly. I watched him and the playfulness fell from my face, and my breath caught silently as I marveled at his tenderness. He was always making me better. When he looked up at my face, his smile softened, became more earnest, matching my thoughts. We sat there, looking at each other for a moment, the air smoldering between us.

Sitting on the counter, I was closer to his height, and he was standing so that my knees fell to either side of his hips. It was impossible to look away, the way he was looking at me. And I could feel that my expression wasn't exactly innocent or platonic. Suddenly, he leaned forward quickly and kissed me. His lips were on mine and then removed before I could even understand what had happened. He looked at me, himself surprised by his actions. I realized that he was still holding my injured hand, and he began to withdraw it, but my fingers automatically tightened around his. He looked up at me, curiously, tentatively.

My expression showed no change and he slowly leaned toward me again, his eyes still on mine, gauging any change, allowing me to pull away. But I didn't. I watched him move by increments closer to me, and my eyes glanced to his lips before fluttering closed. I felt my head tilt and his lips were on mine again. He kissed me once, twice, and a third time, his lips soft against mine. He pressed closer and picked me up, his hands sliding under my thighs and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried us to the couch, continuing the gentle, careful kisses as he sat down with me on top of him. His lips parted and I felt his breath just as his fingers skimmed along the small section of skin exposed on my back, where my shirt and jeans failed to meet.

His touch was electric, and burned against my skin. So different than Edward's touch.  
Oh god, Edward. What was I doing? I suddenly leaned away, pushing Jacob back.

"I'm sorry," Jacob said automatically, and saw the panic on his face.

"I can't...Tomorrow is..." I stuttered as I scrambled off of him and moved to the opposite side of the couch.

"Your wedding," he finished my thought.

Yes, tomorrow is my wedding. To Edward. Whom I love.

"So, um, what's on TV?" I asked hurriedly, reaching for the remote and flicking on a random station. We sat like that, in silence, for over an hour. I could feel his eyes hesitantly glance over at me every so often, but I pretended not to notice and kept my eyes on the screen. I pretended to watch the show, whatever show it was.

My mind was humming. I kept pushing away the memory of his skin on mine, but every time it flitted through my head, my heart would start racing again and my breath was not even. I wondered if he noticed. He didn't say anything if he did.

I couldn't do this to him, I reasoned. To either of them. I couldn't cheat on Edward! But why did I want to? But, I didn't want to. I didn't want Jacob for an experiment. I wanted him for the rest of my life. Wait... I didn't just think that... I didn't just think that.

I had been having this crisis for the past few weeks, since Jacob had kissed me before the battle. But I had chosen Edward. And I figured my commitment to him, this little ring around my finger, would make my feelings for Jacob fade. But they weren't. Even this attempt to normalize things the night before I bound myself to Edward was failing because all I could think of was how it would feel to be with Jacob. Riding our bikes and him patching me up after. Watching the sunset on the cliffs and hanging out in the garage. Laughing with him and holding him and never having to go home at the end of the night. I could see that. And I could see a simple, plain gold band around my finger rather than this gaudy one that I resented.

I stole a glance at Jacob, and he seemed to be having an internal conversation of his own. I wondered what he was thinking. He looked over at me and before I could avert my gaze, he feigned a smile (I could always tell when they were forced) and said, "We're really sucking at this. We're supposed to be pretending it's just Jake and Bells. This doesn't feel like us."

His attempts made me smile and his smile relaxed into a genuine one.

"Really," he said, his voice natural again, "If tomorrow wasn't…tomorrow and we were just hanging out, what would you want to be doing right now?"

I contemplated that. And I knew what I wanted. Not just for tonight. Forever- or for life, at least.

"We would be doing this," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

I moved from the couch and stood in front of him. He looked at me curiously and then in confusion as I gently stroked his cheek with my fingertips. I smiled as his expression changed from confusion to hope to uncertainty. I leaned down and slowly pressed my lips against his. His hands reached up and pulled me into his lap. We enjoyed where we were for an unknown time and then the kisses got more urgent, more heated.

When I felt his tongue press against my lower lip, I stood up, pulling him with me. My lips parted under his as he backed me down the dark hall. He pressed my back up against his bedroom door and we both smiled through the kiss. He turned the knob and we fell through the doorway, before he shut it behind us, never removing his lips from mine.

His fingers were tracing the skin at the hem of my shirt, reaching up under it, and then out again. It was too tight to fit his hands under. Frustrated, he pulled away for a moment, and pulled it up over my head, and threw my shirt on the floor. I laughed and he smiled at me sheepishly before his eyes wandered down from my face.

I felt myself blush. He ran his hands over the fabric of my bra and then our kissing continued, a new fierceness introduced. He walked me backward, until I felt the bed against the backs of my legs. I had pushed his shirt up as my fingers roamed over his tight muscles, his hot skin, and he pulled it up over his head and it landed next to mine on the floor. I pulled him with me down onto the bed and he hovered over me, leaving most of his weight on his arm. But I didn't want that. I wanted him with me, as close as possible, and I kept pulling myself closer, tugging on his neck and arching my back up off the bed, wrapped a leg around his, until I felt him give in with a groan and lay on top of me.

I could barely breathe, and it felt wonderful. My breath was coming out in gasps. I smiled as I realized his was, too. I loved that I could make him feel as good as he was making me feel. All I wanted was more. More of him, more of us, just...more.  
My hands gripped his sides as he started to rock against me- or maybe it was me rocking against him. I couldn't even discern the difference. I pressed my hands against his skin, moving over his back, over his stomach. When I reached the top of his shorts, he lifted his hips an inch. Did he want me to...?

I pulled my lips away from his for a moment to whisper, "Can I...?"

He smiled, "Yes." In return, his hand trailed from my knee up my thigh, just under the bottom of my shorts. "Can I?" He asked.

"Yes," I whimpered, my back arching under his touch.

In laughter, we scrambled out of our remaining clothes. I felt a little reckless, yet certain. I felt young and bubbling over with too many emotions. I felt...happy. Jacob didn't have to be careful- he wouldn't hurt me. He didn't have to keep me at arm's length or call stop just when I felt I was toppling over the edge into something wonderful. He could be here with me, and when I looked into his eyes, burning his heat and love into mine, I knew he was exactly where I was.

I have never felt such utter togetherness.

______________________________________________________________  
We lay there, my head on his arm and both of us out of breath.

"I didn't know it could be like this," I said.

"Neither did I," he agreed, his fingers tangling with mine. "It could always be like this," he then said, looking down at our hands. I looked out the window, at how high the sun was getting. I sighed.

I began to untangle myself from him and he sat up, worry suddenly etched into his face.  
"Where are you going?" he asked anxiously.

I was gathering my clothes and putting them back on. What was Charlie going to say? What was Edward going to say? What was_ I_ going to say?

"You know what I have to go do," I replied, and tried to smooth out the worry lines on his face with my hands. But they only grew deeper as his face crumpled in pain. He looked like he did that day at his mother's funeral. We were so young, but I would always remember that haunting face. Why was he making it now?

"You're going to Edward?" he rasped, his voice broken.

I picked up my engagement ring from the bedside table, where I had placed it last night. "Yes," I answered, looking at the ring, "I have something to return to him."


End file.
